I'm Sorry
by Love Out Of Lust
Summary: Based on the episode that aired on Channel 4 on 09/08/12. Ste tries to kiss Brendan after a heated exchange.


He isn't sure how he's ended up here. When he leaves Doug's flat, he stands by the railings overlooking the village for a moment, his hands coiled around the metal, feeling like he is holding on for dear life.

He has felt more alone before, when he was terrified, cowering in a corner to defend himself from Terry's bruises, his mum having collapsed on the sofa, empty bottles and cans scattered around the carpet. But this holds a different kind of pain. He'd experienced happiness for the first time, with Amy, with the kids, and now they're gone.

They aren't going to be waiting for him back at the flat, and he'd seen Amy's certainty as the bus had pulled away from him.

She wouldn't be coming back.

He should never have gone to Doug's party. The crowds, the loudness of it all, the people there. It wasn't him. He thought he'd be used to that after Chez Chez. Somehow it hadn't seemed bad then. It had been exciting, thrilling. There had been a buzz to it. But then, he couldn't help thinking that that might have a lot less to do with the surroundings, and much more to do with the company.

Now he is someones secret, again. He feels like that's all he ever is, someone to be ashamed of, to hide. It's Brendan and Mitzeee all over again.

_Maybe soon we'll be able to meet that new girlfriend of yours._

Doug hadn't tried to refute it. He'd just stood there, letting them believe that he was a friend, a business partner. Like anything else would have been too hard to put into words.

It should have been different. He'd envisioned shaking Doug's parents hands, beaming as he reveled in being accepted by two people who knew exactly who he was - who knew that he was with their son, and didn't view him as some sort of unfortunate problem.

He'd had to get out of there. Something in his gut told him that he didn't belong there, and he couldn't put on an act. As he hears footsteps behind him, he releases his hands from the railings, running down the steps. He doesn't want to talk through it, or listen to apologies.

He just needs to go somewhere where he doesn't feel so lost. Where someone understands.

Chez Chez is nearer. But he can't be sure that _he_ wouldn't be there. Behind the bar, or in his office, making his usual snide comments. Their encounter earlier that day had left him feeling...uncomfortable. He was used to Brendan invading his personal space. That was nothing new. But his own reaction had been stilted for so long, held back by the punches, the arguments, the tears, the control and the manipulation. He wished for that back, badly. Disliking Brendan felt pretty damn good in comparison to the way he had felt earlier in the village.

_Are you trying to tell me that these moments don't make you happy? That you don't get a buzz when I'm close, like this?_

It had disgusted him.

_I can't stand you._

Yes, it had disgusted him.

How much he still wanted it.

He was sick.

Doug deserved someone better. Someone who could let him be there for him, someone who would allow him to lean against his shoulder as he hugged him. Someone who talked to him, instead of shutting him out like Ste knew he was doing.

Someone who didn't feel an involuntarily movement in his boxers at the sight of Brendan standing so close to him. The smell of him, aftershave and desire. The nearness of his lips, his eyes, that dark hair that showed through the undone buttons of his shirt.

He'd thought those feelings were long gone. He wondered if Brendan could tell, if he could see exactly what was going on in his brain. He hated the idea, that his thoughts were being so laid bare, that the man knew how he still got to him.

So he used his words to wound. He knew that being a father was one of the only things that Brendan clung to, that he cared about. It was the easiest way to hurt him. Thinking about Declan reminded Ste of what had happened during his last visit. Taking the boy into his flat when he'd run away from home. Hiding him from Brendan, denying any knowledge of his whereabouts. Afterwards turning up at Brendan's flat when he realised that he'd have to do something, and thinking he'd got away with it, that Declan was safe now, that it would all be fine. That Brendan never had to know where he'd really been.

Thinking of the punch to his ribs, to sitting outside amongst the rubbish, keeling over and wincing in pain. That was good, thinking of that. It helped him to hate. To feel that anger inside him.

It was better that way.

He knows he can't go back there. He has to go to The Dog, to find a seat in the corner, have a beer, and go home and get some sleep. He has to believe that it is still a home, despite the people he loves no longer being in it. He can't afford to drown his sorrows, especially not after the deli has been trashed. He knows he has to get back on track. To go back to work the next day, to face Doug his parents, and be an adult.

Except...

Except he has another home, doesn't he? The only other place in this earth where he's felt like he belongs. The person there had worshipped him, had adored him, had made him forget how he didn't have a lot of money, or an education, or parents who gave a shit about him, or beauty, or anything that marked him out from the crowd. Even if it was just for a little while, he made that all go away.

He wants it to go away again.

His feet move by their own accord, as if uncontrolled by his brain somehow, by his sense. Because there is nothing that makes sense about this, is there? And yet nothing in his life feels this _right._

He has missed this place.

The people behind the bar aren't the same. He remembers the old gang. They'd been insufferable at times, but he holds a strange fondness in his mind for them. Rhys. Jacqui. Cheryl. _Him. _

What had started as a way of earning a bit of cash for Amy and the kids, of keeping his head afloat, had become something he'd enjoyed. Going into work everyday, never knowing what to expect. He'd left so quickly that he hadn't ever got a chance to say goodbye to it all, not properly. He knew it was just a stupid building, nothing special in the grand scheme of things. But it had seemed special to him, at the time.

He'd changed there. He'd grown up there.

It doesn't look like _he_ is working there tonight. Good. That is good. The last thing he needs is his smug face boring into him, asking where Doug is, loving every second of his aloneness. Every time he sees Brendan like that, goading him and putting him down, something dies in him little by little. That isn't the man he had known. That was Warren Fox's role. Danny Houston's. Maybe even that Walker's who Ste had seen hanging around with him.

Not Brendan.

He laughs to himself. He is being an idiot. Of course that is Brendan. Why should he think there is anything behind the stinging words, the set face, the guarded eyes? Nothing over the past eight months has given him any reason to believe that there is anything more underneath the exterior.

He'd let himself believe that Brendan had cared about Lynsey, that he'd been broken about it. But he'd been part of it all, hadn't he? Maybe not directly, but innocent people don't attract bullets. They don't stand by and watch while their sister fears for her own life. If what Cheryl said was true, and Brendan still...still has feelings for him, then he is in danger too. He's had enough of that to last a lifetime.

He can't get sucked into all that again. He'll have a quick drink, and go home. Brendan will never even have to know he was there.

When he has his first sip of whiskey, he immediately feels warmer. He remembers the first time he had this drink at Brendan's flat. All the way from Ireland, apparently. He'd shuddered against the strength of it, having grown up with cheap cans of cider consumed on the park swings.

This time when he drinks it, he feels ready. Like he has control over it, not it over him.

He doesn't know why he'd chosen that one. Something from a different lifetime. When he was at the start of a journey, and he'd had no idea how it would end.

One that still hasn't ended, two years later.

He can't stop himself from wanting more when he drains the glass.

"Another one of them."

He just wants to forget everything. The past and the present and whatever the hell he has to face in the morning.

He slides the glass across the bar, ready for the taste of more.

He senses him then.

Standing closely in that way he does. Leaning sideways against the bar. Talking to him like they are the only two people in the club.

They could be the only two people in the world.

"Don't you have a party to go to?" Quiet, intimate.

Ste says nothing. He feels such an aching loss suddenly, like his entire life is catching up with him in this moment. The pain of it takes his breath away.

He wants Brendan to leave him alone.

He wants Brendan to stay.

"Must be pretty dark, that place you're in right now."

_Have I ever really stepped into the light?_

"You cannot expect Douglas to understand that darkness."

_I thought he'd help me to forget about it._

"Not the way I can."

_Please..._

"You haven't got a clue what's going on in my head Brendan, okay."

Not since he'd shut him out of it.

"Maybe."

Still so quiet. Ste can hardly even hear the chatter around him anymore. It has disappeared, just like that.

"But I know exactly what's going on in here."

Ste feels it. Two fingers on his chest. On his heart. Brendan.

"Don't I?"

_What do you want from me? The truth? Would that make you happy? Would that give you some kind of fucked up satisfaction, knowing that I'm at your mercy yet again? Because I always am, aren't I? What was it you said - that I'd always come back to you? Well here you go, Brendan. I'm right here, practically in your arms. I meant to go home. I meant to go to The Dog. I meant to go to Doug's party, but it doesn't matter what's right and what I should do. I end up here every time. With you. I always will, won't I? You're the thing I can't get out of my head, like you're buried under my skin, like you're in my veins, my blood. If someone ripped out my soul they'd see you there, the other half, the thing that completes it. And I hate you for it, and I want to hurt you for it. Because no one else will ever know this pain and this darkness. And you're the one who caused so much of it in the first place._

_You're the only one who can save me, and you're the only one who can kill me._

Brendan walks away from him. He can hear the footsteps from his boots as he retreats. It's not for the first time. It's what he does.

Ste wants a different ending, even if he doesn't know what it is.

"Why do you always do this to me, eh?"

He follows him, pulling at his arm, willing for him to look him in the eye, to stay with him.

To keep him there, if he can.

"Why?"

_Why do you still make me want you?_

Brendan can barely look at him. That man from earlier, gazing into his eyes with such fire and intensity, had been silenced. It was like everything had been stripped away.

This is the man Ste had known.

Ste's eyes fall to his lips then. The moustache is longer these days, deliciously thick and dark. The last time he'd kissed Brendan he had felt that old familiar sensation, the tickling of it against his delicate skin. He hadn't wanted it then. As he'd felt Brendan's tongue trying to find his own, he'd withdrawn his lips. Laughed. He'd moved away from him, wanting to shake he felt so angry and alive, knowing the whole thing was a scam, but that fact not being able to ease the stuttering of his heart.

All they'd had between them for months had been games.

He doesn't want that now. He just wants comfort, the kind that only Brendan can bring.

He anchors Brendan's face towards him with his hands, dying for that first taste. His mouth is eager, his lips parting. He is so ready for it his body hums, like an electric volt is going through him. Something that has been trapped within him for a long time is released and ignites.

Fuck, he's missed this. He's gasping for it.

He is denied access to the thing he most wants. Brendan turns his head away, his eyes still avoiding Ste's, like he's scared to look at him.

"Stephen." His words drip with emotion. "This isn't what you want."

Ste's hands still on his. He nearly releases them, apologies and his own humiliation and loss filling him. But what's on the other side of that door?

No one knows this darkness.

No one but _him_.

He smooths a hand over Brendan's cheek. It's always surprised him, how soft it is. Brendan's so masculine, hair covering almost every inch of his body. But his cheeks are like satin, and Ste loves the glide of his thumb against his face.

He leans forward, and wets Brendan's neck with kisses. They ghost across his skin at first, tender and light. He knows it's Brendan's weak spot, that it causes him to close his eyes and pull Ste closer. He hopes it's enough.

"Stephen...stop."

But Ste doesn't want to stop.

He applies more pressure, sucking the area, his hand stroking against the back of Brendan's neck, feeling the tiny beads of sweat that is released from the man.

"I said stop!"

Brendan pushes him off, panting. He stares at Ste with wild, dark eyes.

"This isn't the...you're hurting, okay. I'm not going to..."

He shakes his head, and Ste wonders if this speech is for his benefit, or Brendan's own.

"I'm not taking advantage."

Ste has a better view of Brendan's body with him stood back like this. He can't help but trace his eyes over the noticeable bulge straining against his trousers. Brendan meets his eyes, and Ste sees embarrassment there, for perhaps the first time.

And Ste gets that feeling again. That feeling that he needs to be completely taken, filled entirely. That he needs to be touched in all the right places, in all the right ways. That ever since last summer, ever since last year, there's been an itch in him that just hasn't gone away, and no matter how hard he's been rubbed and licked and fingered and fucked, he hasn't been able to even scratch the surface of it.

It is something that wholly exists between them, Ste and Brendan, and he has learnt time and time again that it's the best way to forget everything. When he's lying on his back, legs around Brendan's waist, his arse encased in Brendan's cock, their lips making their own kind of music, it's like the entire world breaks into fragments, and it's terrifying and beautiful, and when they come, everything is put back together again.

Ste laughs.

"You're not taking advantage if I want it."

Brendan is still shaking his head. His face has turned pale, and he backs away at every movement that Ste takes closer.

Ste wants them to be completely alone, to block out the world. He slams the door of the office shut with his foot, and advances on Brendan.

He doesn't stop until the back of Brendan's legs hit the desk. Ste looks down at the papers surrounding it, getting in the way.

He looks at Brendan in permission, but he says nothing. He barely moves.

Ste moves forward, brushing away all the clutter on the desk forcefully. It hits the floor, scattered pieces drifting in the air before landing.

Ste's eyes travel back to Brendan's. He needs him to want this too. Every muscle in his body is screaming at him to take charge, to _do_ something.

Brendan looks at him, finally. His face is tense, his jaw rigid.

His eyes are the only thing that is warm, like molten lava. They reveal what nothing else does.

"What do you want from me, Stephen?"

He sounds tired. Defeated.

"You. Just you."

What he has always wanted, if only Brendan understood.

But perhaps he knows more than Ste realises.

Ste kisses him then. He has come to realise that it is the best way to keep him. There is nothing else like it, and Ste doesn't think he's the only one who feels like that.

Brendan's mouth is so strong against his own, so large. He barely gives him room to breath. He is ferocious, burning the boy's skin with his moustache, the friction of it addictive. With his free hands, Brendan wraps Ste's legs around his waist, carrying him over to the desk, and slamming him down against it. He pauses for a moment as Ste surveys him under long lashes and glazed eyes, alight with loss and pain and passion. Brendan undoes his trousers, freeing his erect cock from its confines.

It has been a long time since Ste saw it, and he can't help but be taken aback by the thickness of it, the size. It stands up, long and proud, veins covering its length.

Brendan's fingers brush against it, squeezing the tip.

"Let me," Ste says, and he leans forward, reaching for it.

He spits on his palm and grasps Brendan's cock in his hand, immediately moving it up and down the shaft.

He is good at this. He knows he is.

"Fucking hell, Stephen."

Brendan groans as Ste strokes harder. Ste loves being able to do this, give him pleasure like this. He has never felt more powerful than when he's in the bedroom with Brendan, using his body as a means of being close to him. He couldn't believe it at first, the way Brendan desired him. He quickly decided to use it, to learn everything that Brendan could teach him.

He uses it now, expertly moving his hand in the way that makes Brendan thrust into his palm.

"Stephen, I think I'm going to..."

He gets that. After so long apart, it's too much. It's too much to be touching him like this, to be back in this office, where so many things have happened here.

Brendan is good at lasting, but he never had to wait this long for this moment.

Ste feels it too, the feeling that he is going to burst, when Brendan has barely touched him.

"Hold on," he says, because he doesn't want to stop this.

He knows he is making it harder for Brendan to last, but he can't resist his next movements.

He releases his hand. He climbs down from the desk and changes positions, pushing Brendan back onto it instead. Brendan is confused, wary, dazed by all of this, but Ste gives him a kiss on the forehead. Reassurance.

He climbs on top of Brendan, his hands landing everywhere. The outsides of Brendan's legs. His belly button. His treasure trail. His chest through his shirt, which neither of them has been patient enough to remove.

He spreads Brendan's legs open with his hands, so they're as wide as they can go. Ste then kneels down, so that Brendan's cock is inches away from his face, lying hard against his stomach.

Ste parts his lips and licks the underside of Brendan's balls, marveling at the sensation of the loose sack entering his mouth. He sucks, and Brendan stops watching him and leans his head against the desk, arching his hips up, rotating them ever so slightly.

Ste's eyes never leave Brendan's cock as his mouth encases his balls. He reaches out and touches it softly, and when he can't stand it any longer, he frees his mouth and guides it towards his lips.

Brendan bucks when Ste takes it whole.

"Don't. I can't last."

"Shhh. Just...try. I need to."

He needs to feel that connection again, to do everything they used to do. Sucking Doug's cock is never like this. With Noah it was incomparable.

There is something about the sheer size of it, the way it feels against his gums and lips and teeth. It is about his own pleasure, not just Brendan's.

But most of all, he suspects it has an awful lot to do with the person it is attached to.

Brendan's pubic hair surrounding it is coarse and dark, and Ste traces his fingers over it as his mouth moves.

There is no inch of this man that he doesn't want to feel. The strength he has had to have to stay away from him had been momentous. He doesn't know how he survived.

Ste concentrates all his attention on what he is doing, so he doesn't think about the idea that this will soon all be over.

There will still be Doug, and there will still be the party, and his parents, and Carter and Hay, and no kids, and no Amy, and reality.

He can sense how Brendan's trying to stop himself from coming apart at the seams. Ste glances up at him and sees him biting his lip, his hands gripping the edges of the desk, his knuckles white with the effort of doing do.

It is a turn on, the idea that this is doing as much for Brendan as it is for him.

It encourages Ste to take more of him into his mouth. Brendan's girth meant that early on he got over his gag reflex, through practice and a lot of coaxing and patience. He hasn't lost the ability to take all of him in, even if he hasn't had to do it for a while. He watches his cock glide in and out of his mouth, his own straining against his stomach.

Ste has fantasies of Brendan doing the same thing to him, but he doesn't think they can both wait.

Maybe next time...

He gags for the first time in years, withdrawing his mouth.

"You okay?" Brendan says, leaning on his elbows, staring down at him with flushed skin.

Fuck, he looks hot.

"Mmm."

There won't be a next time. That's what he's always saying, isn't it? Then why is he here, with his mouth around Brendan's cock, his only thoughts being making him as satisfied as possible, of being satisfied beyond belief in return?

Brendan seems to read indecision in his face.

"You want to go?"

Like hell he does. That's the problem.

Ste pushes him down again, and climbs along his legs, settling so that his groin is pressed against Brendan's own, his arse on Brendan's thighs.

"What do you want me to do?" Ste asks, sounding much more bold and confident than he feels.

"What?"

"What do you want me to do to you?" he repeats.

"That's my question."

Ste smiles. "Not tonight."

Brendan stares at him thoughtfully.

"Do you want me to finger you?" Ste whispers into his ears. "Or do you want me to be inside of you?"

Never has he been this forthcoming. He has always used sounds and actions to get what he wants, to entice. Not his words.

He wonders whether Brendan will laugh in his face, and reject him.

Perhaps he is being ridiculous. Easy. Desperate.

He has a boyfriend.

_Something is missing._

Ste closes his eyes, attempting to dislodge that train of thought.

"I'll do whatever you want."

Because he will. He will do whatever Brendan want, because everything Brendan wants feels so good.

For a moment he thinks Brendan will say no, but then he lowers his gaze, his eyes falling to his own arse, then back at Ste.

"There." His voice is hoarse.

Ste wriggles down the desk once more, enjoying the sight of Brendan's toned and hairy legs, which part for him effortlessly, without him having to ask.

Brendan is positioned so that his hole is visible to Ste, puckered and pink.

Ste wets his lips, and kisses the cheeks of Brendan's arse. The tender gesture disarms Brendan, and he fidgets for a moment, before stilling, allowing Ste to lay his mouth against them.

He leaves a trail of kisses until he reaches his destination. The first time he did this, he couldn't help but reveal his uncertainty. The idea of his mouth being...there. It had left him breathless with nerves. It wasn't something he had ever done with a woman, and when he'd thought about having sex with a man, it had never extended to that.

He'd been unsure the first time Brendan had rimmed him, if he'd been honest. But the man was a master at bringing people round, and after some heavy petting beforehand, Ste had found it harder and harder to say no.

He'd experienced an alien pleasure then, one which had turned his legs to jelly and left his own imprints in the sheets through grasping the material so tightly. The idea of giving Brendan that same sensation had spurred him on into trying it for the first time. And not the last.

Ste regards Brendan's entrance eagerly. When his tongue finds it, he hesitates. He's still worried that Brendan will push him away at any moment, throwing him out of the club. But something in his gut tells him that it is an impossibility. Just like Ste can't and won't move now, Brendan won't leave him.

Ste's tongue breaks through that initial barrier and twists in Brendan's hole. He's in love with the feeling, of the way he can make the man disintegrate. Someone needing him this much is incredible.

No, not someone. _Him. _

Brendan's groans and cries are his reward. The good thing about working in Chez Chez had always been how music constantly played. It is the only thing that is capable of hiding the noises that are coming from them both.

Ste laps at his hole repeatedly, reacquainting himself with the taste and feel of it.

He's never heard Brendan so exposed. He calls out Ste's name more than once, as if wanting to memorize it on his lips.

Ste knows the feeling. He wants to memorize this entire encounter, to never forget one single second, because one second is too much.

After a few seconds of this, Ste begins to hear Brendan murmuring above him.

"I...I..."

"You what?" he asks, releasing his tongue and raising his head.

"I want to fuck you."

The words have him shivering all over.

"Where are the condoms?"

He knows that Brendan is always prepared. Ste doesn't want to think about why he would be these days, when a chance of something like this happening between them had grown so distant.

The idea that Brendan uses them for anyone else but him makes his throat constrict.

He has a need to be his only. It burns within him.

"Bottom drawer."

Brendan motions to under his desk.

So he keeps them at work. Ste fiercely hopes that they are new, that he's brought them on a whim. Not that they've been there as part of some plan to ensnare some guy back here.

Ste reluctantly disentangles himself from Brendan, finding the condoms hidden behind a bundle of papers in the drawer. He grabs one, tearing the seal off. As he moves back towards Brendan he removes his own trousers, leaving his polo on. This isn't the time for a languid exploration of each others bodies, as much as that appeals to him.

He wants Brendan to fuck him hard, to use all his strength on him, to remind him of what he's never quite been able to forget.

"Put it on me," Brendan says heatedly, and Ste, with shaking hands, rolls the condom on his cock.

They lie so that Ste is flat on his back, Brendan on top of him, pressed so tightly against him that he can feel the warmth of the man against his chest. The heat of Brendan is offset wonderfully by the coldness of the desk, and Ste settles there, staring up into vast eyes of blue.

Brendan pauses, all traces of playfulness having gone from his face.

"You want this?"

How could he not want this? It is not a question.

Brendan sees the answer written all over the boy's expression, and there is no doubt now.

He licks his own fingers, and Ste stares, transfixed at the action.

In and out, in and out. Salvia making Brendan's mouth gleam.

When they wander under Ste's stomach, he knows what's coming. His body tingles with it.

He's tight, but it doesn't hurt. There have been nights when he's laid awake doing this exact thing to himself. Closing his eyes and trying to imagine a brown haired blue eyed American boy, his cock only becoming harder and only being able to reach that place when he hears an Irish accent speaking to him through the darkness. Imagining long delicate fingers, stretching him. Seeing that cross that lies against Brendan's chest, like a solid coat of armor.

Perhaps he was subconsciously preparing himself for this moment all along.

He rocks back and forth under the feel of Brendan's fingers, fucking himself on them. Brendan lets him revel in the sensation for a few minutes, smiling as Ste's movements become loose and uncoordinated.

That spot, that spot deep inside of him, is pressed again and again by Brendan's ministrations, and any embarrassment that Ste has about showing how much he wants it is overridden by how amazing this feels. How right.

When Brendan withdraws them, he knows that what's to come is more than this, is what he's really after. But he sighs at the loss anyway, watching in arousal as Brendan sucks on his own fingers, long and deep.

Brendan's cock strains painfully against the condom, and he knows it's time.

He wraps Ste's legs around his waist. What was it that Brendan once said? That he was flexible?

_Want to see just how flexible I can be?_

Ste raises his legs higher, right up to Brendan's shoulders. The man stares at him in wonderment, a grin breaking out across his face.

"Clever boy."

Ste returns the smile, and uses his legs to pull Brendan towards him, running the sole of his foot down Brendan's back.

Ste can see Brendan aligning himself, the head of his cock getting nearer to his hole. And it almost scares him, how much he wants it. How can he ever get rid of this feeling, render it dead, when it's so strong inside him, when every part of him that is alive wants the man so much?

It is painful at first. Ste is beginning to wonder if anything in life that is worthwhile comes without pain.

When Brendan breaches him, part of him rejects it. Brendan's whole nine inches inside him is an overwhelming thought right now, and he needs a moment to adjust.

"Slowly," he warns.

Brendan strokes a hand down his face, telling him it's all going to be okay.

He keeps it at the pace Ste wants him to at first, thrusting in unhurriedly, allowing the boy to get used to the feeling again.

This suits Brendan just fine. The feel of Ste inside him is something that he doesn't want to rush. He hasn't felt so completely, intensely sated in a long time, and he is not even close to finished.

A light sheen of sweat covers both their faces, and their eyes fight to stay open. They want to look at each other, because that's half the fun, watching their pupils dilate and their mouths becoming slack with every movement.

But neither of them have been touched this way in a year, and the mere sight of each other is making it difficult not to come. Ste wonders how that can be, how just seeing someone you love can make your blood pump and your pulse race and your insides scream for release.

He realises what he's just thought. _Love._

That's not it, is it?

_I know it is._

He is becoming dangerously close to forgetting this last year, of forgetting everything Brendan has done to him. Buying the deli behind his back. Becoming his landlord just to control him. Using his fists to make him weak. Kissing another man in front of his face like he wasn't even there. Every conversation they've had where he may as well have been shit on Brendan's shoe.

It's hard, when everything right now is this one moment, them against the desk, in the place where they first met, with all that emptiness having fallen away.

He can deal with Amy leaving. He can deal with not seeing Leah and Lucas everyday.

He can deal with all of that. As long as he has _him. _

Ste trains his mind to concentrate on the sound of Brendan increasing his speed, of pounding into him, filling him up. The pain is gone now, a bigger, stronger feeling having overtaken it.

Ste scratches down Brendan's back, clawing at him there, joining their mouths in a frenzied combination of lips and tongues and salvia and noises that tell each other everything that needs to be said.

Ste needs to touch himself, badly.

He grasps his own cock in his hand, stroking it harshly as Brendan continues his movements inside of him.

They come together in the way they used to, sweating and deliciously spent. Ste enjoys the comedown almost as much as the main event itself. He always loved how Brendan would lie exhausted against him, unable to move for a good ten minutes, allowing Ste to be curled underneath his waiting arm.

It made such a change from the times when Brendan would leave immediately, throwing him out onto the streets, like he couldn't bear to touch him again. He remembered how much he'd treasured them lying in bed together afterwards.

He wants that now, instead of a cramped desk in a cold office.

He wants a bed. He wants a home. He wants his kids. He wants Amy.

He wants the man still settled on top of him, staring down at him like he has never seen anything so perfect.

"I'm sorry," Ste whispers. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Tears sparkle in his eyes, and his face feels crushed in pain.

"For what?"

_For all kinds of things. _

_I'm sorry for being a cheater, for betraying the one guy whose been there for me, who thinks I actually have some good in me. _

_He doesn't deserve that._

_I'm sorry for not letting Amy go earlier, for not encouraging her to find out what she wanted to do years ago._

_I'm sorry for being the person who held her back to begin with, for making her scared._

_I'm sorry that I'm not at Carter and Hay, fixing things like I should be. _

_I'm sorry I'm not at the party, playing my role and trying to make myself believe that I belong there._

_And I'm sorry for kissing you, and for wanting you, and for fucking you. I always thought that it was you who pulled me back to this place, this darkness. _

_I was wrong. It's just as much me. It never takes much to bring me back here, because for me, it is the light. Being with you is the light. You make me feel less alone, when I've been alone my whole life._

_But there is nothing here for us now, don't you see?_

_You can't love me. You're not ready. _

_And I'll never be ready to fight for someone who wants to hurt me. I did that before. Terry. Pauline. _

_I can't do it again._

_So I'm sorry. I'm sorry for still loving you, and for screwing everything up, because that love will never be enough._

_I'm sorry._


End file.
